


The Fear

by letsprayitwritesitself



Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-12 22:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10500807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letsprayitwritesitself/pseuds/letsprayitwritesitself
Summary: "The Fear" is the sense that you have done yourself some lasting damage after a night of drinking. Jack Kelly wakes up with a hangover and a lot of apologising to do.





	1. Chapter 1

He woke up. This act in itself was quite enough activity for the morning. Dry mouth, pounding head, bile rising in his throat. Fully clothed, at least. He slid his hand out of his comforter to grab his phone on the nightstand. Dead. He dropped it again. He’d charge it later.

Last night. Party. Birthday. Davey. Davey’s birthday.

Davey’s night, to Jack’s joy, because it meant they got to celebrate the best person in the world. Like they should have been doing every day. But that would be impractical.

Crowded in Davey’s dorm room. Six on the bed. Two on the desk. Another four on the floor, including him and Davey, pressed side by side because of the space. Arms brushing every time either of them took a drink which, god, was a lot.

Drinking games and so much beer. Vodka for just before they hit the real party. Davey becoming more relaxed, more pliable, open. Grinning wider, talking even longer. He was just so god damn nice to everyone. That was one thing (of a handful) that Jack remembered. Davey smiling with fondness at his friends, so fucking happy that they’d gathered for his night. Happy, he told Jack, that he was keeping up with his reading too, and that he’d found a secret place in the library, that his professors seemed to like him. Happy he had this little group of people, these guys that were just so chill, so normal, and just so friendly, it was enough to make him soar over the campus. This he unloaded with mirth when Jack nudged him out of a spaced out trance (resultant of the lull as some of the guys tried to remember exactly how you played Kings again.) 

He had turned to Jack, dopey grin in place, just seeming like he was so dumbfounded by how perfect college was for him. Jack clinked their bottles and said Davey didn’t have a thing to worry about, and Davey turned to him, his face inches away, and kept the smile on his face as he said ‘I didn’t have any friends in high school.’

It felt like a revelation. Jack didn’t know anything about Davey’s life before college. He never talked about it. He knew Davey had a sister and a brother, and was from uptown, same as him. But their friendship was based on their shared experience, not their divergent lives before. For a second he saw a flicker of melancholy in his friends eyes, enough to make him reassure Davey with a grin and a quiet ‘Well, we’re making up for that.’

(Jack remembered thinking that he could have kissed Davey then. Their faces were so close. Davey was elated. He could have turned it into a joke or a hilarious fake birthday present. Could have just reached out and cupped Davey’s cheek to close the couple of inches distance. Could have done _something._

But the guys were there. Jack was lucky they expected him to be tactile, so didn’t question the friendly shoulder punches, or arm rubs or hair ruffles that he seemed to - and _knew_ he did - bestow disproportionately on Davey. A kiss, however? Probably too far. This was Davey’s night. Not about him.

Not. About. Him.)

So he just kept smiling, tipping the bottom of Davey’s beer when he drank some so it went everywhere, trying to break the tension he might have created when he lowered his voice. Davey spluttered and gave him a good-natured shove, laughing huge, open, and angelic.

This is where stuff started getting blurry.

The party. Spot’s friend was having a party so they decided to co-opt it for Davey’s birthday, trooping down to a student apartment ten minutes away, loud and on top of the world. The boys ribbing Davey about not knowing what he was getting himself in for, how drunk he was going to get, how _laid_ he was going to get. Davey, despite the beer blurring his inhibitions, protested weakly, saying he didn’t want to. The boys said it was his _duty._ When you were a kid you got a Playstation and toys, now you were a man you got a very different kind of present.

(Jack had picked Davey up a present, of course. He hadn’t given it to him yet. It was a handful of paperbacks he’d spent the last few weeks collecting. No big deal. But.)

So he didn’t see Davey for the first couple of hours. This he remembered. A lot of talking to… Race. That was definitely Race in his deformed mind’s eye. About… About…

He talked shit when he was drunk. That was objective knowledge. And he wasn’t scared about what he may or may not have said to Race. It was…

Shit. His head throbbed. He pulled his comforter over his head and groaned aloud to no-one. He needed water and food. But those things were so god damn far away.

He sat up, pulling the blanket around him, staring out into his room. He still had his shoes on. He dropped them over the side of his bed. That was progress. Now what?

Five loud knocks on the door. His skull split in half, brain leaking out everywhere. Who the fuck.

‘What?’ He pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his forehead o them, waiting for the door to open.

‘Well, hello, there.’

He looked up. Katherine. Like a vision of heaven, with a Starbucks in one hand and a Five Guys bag clutched in the other.

‘You don’t need me to tell you how terrible you look.’

‘Bet I feel worse.’ 

She let the door slam behind her and joined him on the bed, tossing the food towards him unceremoniously.

‘How was your night, rockstar?’

‘I’d tell ya if I could just remember it, Kath.’

‘Yikes.’

‘I mean. Good, I think.’ He tore into the burger, speaking through a mouthful. ‘Soon as I get to the bottom of this ominous notion that I really, _really-’_ He swallowed. ‘Fucked up.’

‘I thought as much.’ Why did Katherine look like she’d never known a hangover in her life? Jack thought she must literally spring out of bed every morning, ready to take on the world (not crabby and covered in drool like he tended to be.)

‘You know something I don’t?’

‘I came by to make sure you were okay, Jack. After your messages?’

‘My… Shit. There it is. That’s the cloud.’

‘You haven’t seen?’

‘My phone’s dead.’

She handed over hers.

_Kathh_

_Fucked up_

_Fucked everything_

_Everything fucekd_

_hes with a guy whos not me kath_

_i fuckign hate myself_

Sent at 3:30 that morning.

‘This doesn’t make me want to check my phone,’ he whined. ‘What the fuck did I do?’

‘I don’t know, Jack. I thought I’d come to make you feel better about whatever it was but if we don’t know, I guess I can’t.’

‘If you hadn’t brought food, Kath…’

‘Whatever, Jackie, like you’re not always pleased to see me.’

Jack glared at her before pounding on the wall next to his bed three times.

‘What the hell?’

He put a finger to his lips. A few seconds later, three bangs came through the other side of the wall.

‘Race’s room. If anyone knows, this guy will. Is that for me?’

‘Sure.’ She handed over the coffee. Jack sniffed his armpit before shrugging and getting up. The world spun. He grabbed his desk.

‘You coming?’

‘I’m desperately intrigued, Jack. I’m coming. Plug your phone in first.’

They padded over to Race’s room. The door was unlocked. Race sat up in bed. Spot, face down on the pillow, did not. Race grinned.

‘Jack Kelly. Katherine Plumber. Pleasure.’

‘Race, I’m dying.’ Jack flung himself on to the bed, across the two boys. He squeezed himself between them, staring at the ceiling. Katherine sat on the desk. Race grinned.

‘Tell me all about it, brave soldier.’

‘Can you think of anything I might have done last night to fuck my life up?’

‘Oh man. Now you’re asking. Liver damage, you smoked a lot, you probably socially isolated yourself after destroying One Direction on karaoke.’

‘You’re a funny guy, Race.’

‘He means the Davey thing.’ Spot’s voice was muffled by the pillow. Jack’s blood turned cold.

‘What Davey thing?’

‘Ah shit. Shit!’ Race piped up. ‘I remember now! Well, mostly. Not really. You… Oh man. You told me you’re in love with our pal Davey.’

There it was. Jack covered his face with his hands. ‘Great. Great, who the fuck else did I tell?’

‘Just me, I think.’

‘And me!’ Katherine chimed in with a smile. ‘Not that I didn’t know.’

‘I was trying to make out with Spot in private and you busted in all “Oh, I love him, I love him, he’s never gonna know, bullshit, bullshit, blah blah blah.”’

An image quick as a flash in Jack’s mind. Davey at the party. In the kitchen. Sitting on the table, legs swinging, gulping happily from a red solo cup. A guy standing close to him. Resting his hand on Davey’s knee. Then leaning up.

Jack sat up. ‘Davey made out with a guy.’

‘I _told_ him he was going to get laid!’

‘You’re an asshole, Race! What the hell am I supposed to do?’

‘I can’t help, Jack. I did see you talking to Davey a little later, but after not so long you stomped away like a brat with a thing of Jack Daniels.’

‘I’m the fucking worst person in the world.’

‘You were in a _terrible_ mood, Jack. It was frightening.’

‘Did I say anything?’

‘Not to me. But.’

‘Davey?’

‘Bingo. You yelled at him because he made out with someone else, Jackie. Pretty severe stuff.’

‘Oh my god.’ Maybe he could remember a little bit. If he thought hard, he remembered being so _angry._ ‘I blew it.’

‘That’s debatable, Jack. I don’t have any more puzzle pieces for you, I’m afraid.’

‘Jack, you know what you have to do now.’ Katherine’s voice floated over. Jack shut his eyes, shook his head.

‘No.’

‘Yes.’

‘I can’t. I can’t talk to him.’

‘He’s your best friend, Jack. This is a tiny hurdle. If you don’t go, things will be weird forever.’

‘If I _do_ go things could still be weird!’

‘If you _don’t_ go, Jack Kelly, things will definitely never get better, alright?’ She jumped off the desk and marched over. ‘Are you going to make me drag you there by the ear?’

‘Can I shower first?’

‘I’ll allow it.’

//

‘It’s not so bad.’ She announced this to him as he came out of the shower. She held his phone in her hand. Pushing aside his discomfort at her even looking, he had to know:

‘What’s the damage?’

‘It’s okay.’

‘Specifics. I can handle it now.’

‘First of all you took three hundred pictures. Approximately ninety per cent are selfies. You look like you’re having a lot of fun. Second, eight separate people texted asking where you were - they started around one and went on until four. Davey Jacobs is one of them. Now. Third thing - Davey texted you a lot. You didn’t reply. I don’t think you saw them. But at like four in the morning so, after you texted me. You must have done home and crashed.’

‘Right. Shit. Right. What do they say?’

‘There’s lots of variation on “where are you.” Like, where the hell are you, where the fuck are you, Jack Kelly if I don’t find you in thirty seconds. Those are all early. Some stuff like “Come to the kitchen birthday shots,” aww. Then… “Jack what’s going on?” “It’s ok.” You didn’t see any of these?’ Jack shook his head. ‘”It’s ok.” “Jackie talk to me.” “At least let me know you got home safe.” “We need to talk about this.” Then: “We’re okay.”’

‘”We’re okay?’”

‘Uh-huh.’

‘So… we’re okay.’

‘You’re okay.’

‘Did I text him? Like, at all?’

‘Oh boy. You sure did.’

‘Shit. Tell it to me straight.’

‘Well…’ She held the phone out to him. Three texts sent at two in the morning, before Davey’s onslaught. Just after Jack stormed out.

He took in a deep breath, and read them.


	2. Part 2

Davey’s alarm woke him at a sensible time. Why on _earth_ had he not turned it off?

He rolled over in bed and batted at his phone, opening one eye to try and shut it off. He’d never been hungover before, so he couldn’t tell if this was that, or he was genuinely dying.

He swung his legs out of bed and stared at the carpet for a few seconds. This was horrific. Why did people drink all the time. What was the point. He tried to think - he’d had beer, and vodka at his dorm, and that had been _so fun._ Then more of both at the party, and… punch. Crap. Punch.

To the bathroom, where he knelt in front of the toilet just in time. He hurled, his stomach convulsing, and sat on the cold floor, feeling incredibly sorry for himself. Not that it wasn’t his own dumb fault, of course.

So, last night. Last night.

The party at Spot’s friends house. So much fun - a lot of laughing, he remembered that. The guys all crammed in to one room. His friends. Then loud music and lights, and - god, he danced. He must have been _so_ drunk to have voluntarily danced in public.

With a jolt he remembered Ryan.

Ryan had approached him as they did shots in the kitchen, looking Davey up and down before offering his hand. Davey, brazen with alcohol, had done the same. He distinctly remembered thinking _this is what people do. This is your normal college experience, Davey. Right here, looking you in the face._

So he had leaned into Ryan’s flirtatious touches and laughed at his jokes. Suddenly his friends were nowhere to be found. He hung out with Ryan for a long while.

And when Ryan leaned in for a kiss his instinct was to duck away. Because he always thought  - and he knew this was dumb - that kisses should be saved for people you really knew. Or, had known for a little longer than just an hour. At the same time he rationalised by thinking of all the couples he had seen making out since he had been here - and maybe it would be nice to just mindlessly…

He let Ryan kiss him. Warm, soft, open. It felt… Really nice. Kind of - ridiculously pleasant. And Ryan was tall, and broad shouldered. He knew stuff like how to rest his hands on Davey’s jaw to make him go all shivery, and kissing him gave Davey an opportunity to do some stuff like feel his chest, touch his hair. Fun stuff like that.

And maybe the whole night passed in a whirl of making out with Ryan. In the kitchen, then the living room. Then the garden.

They were alone outside, fairy lights strung up illuminated Ryan from behind and Davey, suddenly outside himself, just thought… _We’ve been doing this all night. I wonder where Jack is… How does a person extricate themselves from this?_

Because you can’t just be like “bye” right? But Davey felt like he had made out with a guy, and that was nice - but this was his birthday, his night. He wanted to hang out with his friends! But what to say?

‘I should really find my friends…’ He kept his hands balanced on Ryan’s shoulders, but craned his neck like he was trying to look through the back door. Ryan took this as an invitation to kiss it.

‘Why?’ Kiss. ‘Aren’t you-’ Kiss. ‘Having fun?’ Kiss. ‘I’m just giving you your birthday present.’

‘It’s not really my birthday anymore.’

‘It’s your birthday til you wake up.’

_Can my birthday present be you leaving me alone?_

Davey didn’t know a whole bunch about sex and love but he knew that if one party had to try and convince the other to stay, it wasn’t a good sign.

‘Ryan.’ He braced his arms on Ryan’s chest to keep him a little distance away. He was still cute, but less so now than before. ‘I - I want to go find my friends.’

‘Am I not enough, here? C’mon, Davey…’

‘I don’t know you.’

‘Get to know me.’ Ryan pulled at Davey’s belt loops to bring his hips flush then snaked a hand round to Davey’s ass. ‘I think you’ll like it.’

‘Ryan, stop it -’

Ryan started again on Davey’s neck. Davey wondered if it would be easier to just give up.

‘Davey…’ Hands. Everywhere. His back, his hair. And then, his fly. Ryan was trying to -

‘Stop it!’ He shoved Ryan, hard, and he stumbled back a few steps.

‘What the fuck?’

‘Leave me alone, okay?’ The garden span around him as he made his way back inside. He had forgotten how drunk he was in the muggy darkness but now the bright lights of the kitchen brought his waviness into pure focus. He looked around. ‘Jack!’

He was elated to see him, hurrying through the kitchen to meet him, and he missed the jovial half-hug and shoulder punch that he expected from his best friend. Instead, a sullen glare. Jack had a large measure of JD in front of him, but not for long. He pounded it back before resuming the glare.

‘Jack, what’s wrong?’

‘Your guy’s gone?’

‘What - Yeah. He turned out to be… Jack, what is it?’

‘What is it? What -’ Jack pointed at nothing in particular to emphasise his point. ‘Why that guy? Why - was it the Zac Efron hair? The fucking… the tight henley he was wearing?’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘I’m happy for you, Dave, honestly. Honest - never woulda had you down as the type to ditch your friends and make out with a stranger at a party.’

‘Are you kidding? Jack, really? This is - this is what happens at parties. Like you’ve never done it? I met a guy, am I meant to be sorry? What’s going on, Jack?’

‘Nothing! Alright? What are you still doing here, don’t you have some guy to be hooking up with?’

‘I ditched him. Talk to me.’

‘I haven’t got anything to say to you.’

‘Then tell me what I’ve done! This isn’t fair, Jack.’

‘Life ain’t fair, Davey, I’ll tell you that much.’ He grabbed the bottle of Jack from the table and took a swig as he started walking away.

‘Jack, seriously -’ Davey tried to grab his shoulder but Jack dodged it and turned back for just a second.

‘Leave me alone, Dave, alright? I’m not in the fucking mood.’ With that he disappeared into the crowd of strangers, leaving Davey stranded.

//

This memory descended on Davey in shocking high definition as he muddled through his morning routine, brushing his teeth, taking a shower, and it was as he stood at his desk, library card in hand, debating whether or not he could face going, that he remembered the last part.

He had looked all over for Jack. Everywhere - high and low. Tapped about a dozen dark haired guys in checked shirts on the shoulder for them to turn around and be strangers. Then he found Race, leading a rousing game of beer pong.

‘Race, have you seen Jack?’

‘I saw him blow this joint boutta half hour ago, Davey. Something crawled up his butt.’

‘I think I pissed him off but I don’t know how.’

‘You guys fight?’

‘Kind of. I couldn’t get through to him-’ He considered. ‘He seemed really annoyed that I… That I made out with someone.’

‘You made out with someone? Davey Jacobs! You little rascal!’ Race slung an arm round his neck and ruffled his hair. Davey waited, not sure if he should mention that he didn’t want congratulations. ‘The thing is,’ Race continued, letting Davey go, picking up his beer. ‘Thing is - you made out with someone. Then what happens?’

‘I…’

‘Jack’s _upset._ All I’m sayin, Jacobs.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Nothing!’ Race turned away as he heard someone shout his name. ‘I’m wanted, birthday boy. Don’t sweat the Jack thing - he can’t stay mad for long!’

And this was when three texts from Jack pinged through. Davey opened them hurriedly - was Jack sorry, was he home safe, was he okay?

_Your worthha million a him_

_I fuckin_

_love you_

//

That next morning, at his desk, he pulled out his phone and checked it again to be sure. He had embarrassingly followed it up with about a million texts to Jack, but he would willingly embarrass himself a thousand times just to make sure his relationship with Jack wasn’t ruined.

Because it added up in an utterly surreal way. If this was anyone else, he would think that Jack… But this was _him,_ and people didn’t _like_ Davey, not in that way. It didn’t happen. Even if the puzzle pieces fit.

He let himself think that he might have kissed Jack last night instead of Ryan. How natural it would have felt because of the tactile nature of their friendship - of Jack’s friendship with anyone, really - but how completely new and exhilarating. Jack was his best friend.

He had to talk to him. He had to -

A knock on the door. It couldn’t be anyone else, could it?

‘Dave -’

Davey rushed forward and enveloped Jack in a hug, squeezing tight, closing his eyes. He felt Jack sag against him, tucking his face into Davey’s neck as he hugged him back.

‘Davey, I’m sorry.’ The words were muffled so Jack took the first step back and repeated himself. ‘I’m sorry. I was a - an inexcusable asshole.’

‘You weren’t, Jack. You were just - I just wanted to know what was going on.’

‘I was in a shitty mood and I took it out on you. And I shouldn’t have. I wish I hadn’t.’ Jack held out what he had brought, five books tied together in a bundle. ‘Didn’t get a chance yesterday, but. Happy birthday. Sorry they’re not wrapped.’

‘Jack…’ Genuinely moved, Davey took the books, turning them over to look at the spines, knowing that this wasn’t just a last minute purchase. He looked up to see Jack watching him, chewing his bottom lip. ‘Thank you. This is… an awesome present.’ Thoughtful. Meaningful. Considerate.

‘So you forgive me?’

‘Nothing to forgive.’ He smiled as Jack nodded. Davey’s stomach twisted as he started to think about bringing up the text. He had to acknowledge it, right? Jack still looked beseeching, like he was worried he was going to upset Davey again. Maybe he needed to hear that the text hadn’t messed anything up. 

The air was charged with something, some tension, so unlike their usual easy, jovial companionship. It felt like anything could happen.

‘Jack, when you texted me…’ _Did you mean it? Am I about to put my foot in my mouth?_

‘Look, about -’ Crap. Jack looked at the ground. ‘About the texts. I’m sorry if I freaked you out, I just… I wanted to try to say…’

‘Jack, it’s…’

‘I know I overstepped, and it won’t happen again.’

‘What if…’ Shit. Shit shit shit. ‘What if I didn’t mind?’ Jack’s head snapped up and he searched Davey’s face.

‘Dave…’

‘I know, this is new. But… I couldn’t say nothing.’ He paused before reaching out his free hand, hoping his calm demeanour wouldn’t betray the somersaults happening in his stomach.

The seconds before Jack took it were agonisingly long but the warm contact of his skin made up for it.

(Later Davey would laugh about how brazen this felt, this innocent act of reaching out for his best friend, but in that moment, it was the world.)

He pulled Jack’s hand towards himself slowly and Jack took a couple of tentative steps forward, breath catching in his chest. The air had changed, the moment they stepped into each other’s personal spaces they acknowledged that things were going to be different now, now they had shared this charged moment, now that Davey could feel Jack’s breath on his lips, now Jack had paused with his forehead resting on Davey’s so he could focus on the warmth of his best friend’s skin. The last thing Davey noticed before their lips met was Jack’s broad, solid chest colliding gently with his, and he understood the difference between kissing strangers and kissing someone you knew.

Concerning Jack specifically he realised that tactile nature translated into kisses, with Jack’s hands holding Davey as close as possible, one dropping Davey’s hand to grab his waist, the other sliding up his jaw and into his hair as they melted into the kiss.  

A smile lit up Jack’s face when they parted. His eyes searched Davey’s face. Davey smiled back. He’d just kissed his best friend. And he wanted to do it a lot more.

‘Davey, I think we’re on to something.’ Jack’s statement sounded like a confession. Davey nodded. He glanced down and realised they had kissed over the threshold of his room. Jack still stood in the corridor.

‘Come in,’ he stepped backwards, letting Jack in. ‘Sorry. I should have asked you in before.’

‘I’ve got no complaints.’

‘Me neither.’ As the door closed behind them Davey took a second to indulge in the relief that he hadn’t lost his best friend, a relief that blossomed into palpable excitement as he stepped into the room made that delicious contact with Jack again, feeling like he should have known that last night’s clusterfuck would lead to today’s heaven. This was Jack, after all, and Jack always got what he wanted. Including, Davey mused, him.


End file.
